Behind The Glass
by ShirleyTemple24
Summary: "She told herself that it wouldn't be forever, that the glass would only separate them for a little longer before they could have their life back." Set between seasons 3 and 4.


**Behind The Glass**

"You can go talk to your husband now, Mrs. Almeida," the voice came and broke her anxious mind wandering.

She directed her attention to where he was approaching the chair behind the glass window in one of those atrocious orange jumpers, handcuffed like a common, dangerous criminal. The image was like a sucker punch to her stomach. He should never have had to wear that stupid thing or have been behind a shield of glass to speak to her, his own wife. This was all so wrong.

Emotion swelled in her as she began taking the few steps over to the chair on her side of the glass. There was tension in his face and lines on his forehead, but when he saw her it all softened. His eyes deepened when they looked into hers, and the dam holding back a river of sobs from escaping her nearly broke. But she stayed strong because that's who she was. She and her husband said so much to each other in a look. They didn't need words to speak the most intimate truths that existed between them.

She was anxious to hear his voice, to tell him how much she missed him already after just three months, so once the shock of the moment passed, she sat in the chair across from him and grabbed the phone that hung on the wall as he did the same.

Her quiet, broken voice came first, as soon as he had the phone to his ear. "Tony."

"Hey, Michelle." He looked miserable, like this exchange was killing him slowly. And it probably was. Despite his misery, he managed a small smile. If she was confident of one thing, it was that he was as happy to see her as she was to see him, which was more than could be articulated. Even this way. She could tell he was struggling for words, but his apparent will to communicate with her proved strong enough to get him through it. "How are you? How're you holding up?"

She bit her lower lip. "I'm—" she tried to articulate how she felt without breaking down, "It's hard... Tony. It's hard without you home."

He clenched his jaw as his emotional brown eyes dug deeper into hers. "I'm sorry, Michelle. I wish I was there with you."

"I know." Her voice was small.

"I miss you so much."

She sniffed and for a moment considered letting herself cry willingly before looking around and remembering they weren't alone. She could lose it in front of him, not in public. "Sweetheart, I miss you... so much. I hate that you're here... because of m—"

"Hey," he cut her off before she could finish the last word, "never say that. It's not your fault, Michelle. Hear me?"

If she could wrap her arms around him right now, she would. She'd grab him and hold him and kiss his chest and shoulders. She nodded in compliance, knowing that agreeing would be the only acceptable thing to him. With the clear wall between them, the last thing she wanted to do was to put up any sort of fight.

After a moment of silence, looking into each other's eyes and battling the sorrow that she was sure gripped both of their insides, Tony looked down, scratched his cheek—she missed seeing those signature mannerisms—and cleared his throat. "Michelle."

"Yeah?" her voiced cracked a little despite her efforts to sound stable.

He inhaled sharply, appearing to be beyond frustrated with the thing he was about to tell her. "I can't believe I'm not gonna be with you for Christmas. I— I was planning to get you something nice. But—"

She shook her head to stop his words before they cut her too deep for healing. "No, no, Tony, don't worry about that." Light tears were coming slowly now like her words. "I just want you, anyway."

She saw his face turn from frustration to a mixture of pain and guilt. She wanted to talk to him. She wanted to ask him how he was doing, but it would be a bad question. The answer was obvious.

Before she thought of something to say, he opened his mouth to speak. "How's... work?" His words were hesitant and tinged with a sting only she could see in his face. For a moment it made her feel guilty for working at CTU still. But she couldn't do anything else. It was all she knew. All she had left without him beside her.

"It was weird at first without you there. And really hard." She shifted and became uneasy as she prepared to make her next statement. "But I— I got promoted. They're transferring me over to Division."

She searched his eyes for some kind of indication of how he felt about the news. He just nodded understandingly.

"I have a meeting on Monday with someone from District. They said they have some things they want to talk to me about, about the transfer."

After a few seconds of silence he added, "You deserved it, Michelle. The promotion."

She could tell it was hard for him to say, and she nodded thankfully, though his affirmation did nothing to assuage the feelings of emptiness she had. He looked from side to side and pressed the dingy phone closer to his face before he said his next words in a hushed tone. "Michelle, be careful. A'right?"

She nodded again, this time because she couldn't say anything. What was there to say? He was there, rotting away in bitterness and pain, undeserving, and she was still out working. But just like Tony, he wanted her to be safe more than anything else. All he ever wanted to do was protect her, and now he was completely unable to do so. He had no control over what happened to her anymore, and she knew it must have eaten him up. She finally found strength to answer him. "I will. I promise."

After forty-five more minutes of difficult, emotional conversation that passed by too fast, Michelle finally felt strong enough to say what she'd wanted to say. "Tony, I'm still fighting for you. Jack is doing everything he can. He's gonna get you out of here, sweetheart. You don't belong here."

His response was vague. He clearly felt uncomfortable discussing the matter.

"I love you, Tony."

"I love you, too, sweetheart," came his whispered reply. She looked around and noticed the guards only paying attention to them enough to make sure they followed rules and Tony stayed secured.

She felt herself getting emotional again and looked down so she couldn't be crushed by his heartbreaking gaze anymore. "What am I supposed to do without you home? Without you with me?"

"Michelle, you'll be fine. I know you, and you're strong. You're gonna be okay, baby. I promise that when I'm out of this, when it's all over, I'll make these days up to you. But don't let yourself go because of me."

Michelle felt sick to her stomach, but his words held her like a child if only for a minute. She needed that. She needed his assurance. She was miserable, but they'd make it out of this, she was sure. She had confidence that Jack would find a way for him to get out of this mess. She told herself that it wouldn't be forever, that the glass would only separate them for a little longer before they could have their life back.

She suddenly had the strongest urge to touch him, make contact with his warm skin. It killed her to be so close, yet not be able to feel him. And that's when the tears threatened her once again before Tony's low voice came softly in her ear. "Michelle, it'll be all right."

She bit her lip and nodded, somehow composing herself fully before speaking again. "Take care of yourself in here."

"Okay," he replied, seeming to lack any other words.

"Mrs. Almeida," the guard prompted. "Your time is almost up. Say your goodbyes now."

A lump formed in her throat at the word 'goodbyes'. She didn't want to tell him 'goodbye'. She turned to her husband and took a deep breath. "I have to go now, sweetheart."

Tony nodded and took the liberty of saying the dreaded word first. "Goodbye, Michelle." His next words were whispered, but passionate all the same. "I love you."

Restraining the built-up liquid in her eyes from covering her face, she screeched back, "I love you, too... Bye, Tony."

As the guards led Tony away in handcuffs again, she told him more with her eyes until he disappeared. She wanted to go home and sleep so the next work-filled day could come sooner to distract her from this. She hoped it would continue to distract her until she was no longer divided from her other half with a sheet of glass.


End file.
